


Tradition

by ThatOneWriter15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneWriter15/pseuds/ThatOneWriter15
Summary: Christmas Eve is for traditions and surprises.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	Tradition

Hunters rarely have the luxury of a silent night. 

But this Christmas Eve, Jody gifted her, the Winchesters, and Castiel a sense of peace. The sheriff cooked an outstanding feast, mulled a gallon’s worth of cider, and provided a  _ home  _ far more welcoming than any motel room.

Sleep evades her well into the night, despite the day of pampering. Perhaps her enthralling view is to blame. The couch elevates her enough to take in the entire living room. Lazy flames flit and crackle in the fireplace. A grand, live Douglas fir dressed in white lights and handmade ornaments stands not far from the hearth. But the best sight is Sam and Dean resting in individual heaps of plush blankets on the rug. And while Cass retired to Jody’s study with a copy of  _ A Christmas Carol  _ an hour ago, she pictures him content, too. 

She sighs, debating something. She’d hate to wake someone up, but after a minute, she decides to indulge in her plan. 

With exaggeratedly slow movements, she lifts the comforter covering her legs and leaves the room. After snagging her coat and boots from the foyer’s open closet, she slips out the front door.

“Oh, wow,” she whispers even though no one can hear her now. 

Jody’s neighbors went all-out with their decorations this year. Countless strands of lights, animated inflatables, and plastic reindeer line the street. She pictures the people--families, friends, children--living in the nearby houses and sends a wish out into the universe that they feel safe and loved tonight.

She breathes deeply, drawing in the scent of burning wood and exhaling a puff of white. The cold air protects the six inches of snow on the ground and serves as a hope that more flakes may fall before the sun rises. 

The door clicking closed yanks her out of her daydream. Proving Hunter senses refuse to take a holiday, she spins around, prepared to defend herself. Sam descends the modest stoop, and she relaxes immediately. 

His brow tenses as he stuffs his fists into the pockets of his inadequate jacket. “What are you doin’ out here?” 

“Enjoying Christmas Eve,” she answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He chuckles, further questions not far behind the sound. “Come on, it’s my favorite night of the year. For as long as I can remember, I’ve snuck outside to get away for a sec and just… take it all in.”

The wind displaces some of Sam’s hair, and he quickly swipes it off his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll…” He turns to go inside.

“No!” she protests. Sam halts, and she waves him over. “Join me.” His boots crunch on frozen slush as he travels to her side.

Her chin elevated, she addresses the sky. “We even got a full moon tonight.” The natural spotlight 200,000 miles above their heads shines with all its might while countless stars attempt to match its luminosity. 

A minute passes before she notices Sam’s eyeline doesn’t reflect her own. He’s not captivated by the Heavens; he’s looking at  _ her _ .

“What?” she inquires, unable to stop the fluttering in her stomach.

“Nothing. It’s just…” Sam awkwardly shifts his weight before dragging his eyes to meet hers. “You’re beautiful.” 

Instantly, they shy away from each other’s stare.  Sam offers no elaboration, so she  _ forces  _ herself to move past the moment, convinced he already regrets his words. 

“You’re practically shivering," she notes. "Why don’t we go make some cocoa?” 

He nods. “Good idea.”

They manage to remove their winter gear with impeccable stealth, but as they creep toward the kitchen, a worn floorboard squeaks beneath her fuzzy sock. She and Sam freeze as they check on Dean. The eldest Winchester’s nose scrunches, and he sighs, still unconscious. 

She glances at Sam, giving him her best “that was close” face. Her gaze continues north and Sam’s follows. A swag of mistletoe dangles from the entranceway of the kitchen. Her heart rate increases, and his cheeks flush the color of holly berries. 

She shrugs slightly, running full-speed into a fantasy. “Well… it  _ is  _ tradition.” 

Sam gulps, but proposes no argument.

Thinking she should’ve asked Santa for a step stool, she pushes up on her toes as Sam leans down. 

That first kiss warms them more than hot chocolate ever could’ve. 


End file.
